


If I Knew

by Renaisty



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-12 10:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11735481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renaisty/pseuds/Renaisty
Summary: He should have left. He should've turned his back and flown away the moment the dust settled, before then even.But he didn't.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This just really really wanted to be written. Tell me what you think!

He should have left. He should've turned his back and flown away the moment the dust settled, _before_ then even.

But he didn't.

He had fifteen minutes to spare, and he thought he'd linger just for a moment, just to make sure. And then he heard it. A small, desperate voice crying for help.

A small, desperate voice crying for help.

He's in the garden, and it's ten years ago. Before they had a big house and before he started the weapons business, when Liz's biggest wonder were the stars and she first decided to be an astronaut.

He runs back in the house, panicked, and there she is. She fell from the stairs, trying to replicate some action movie shot, and she's hurt. She's trying to be strong, he can tell, but her eyes are full of tears and her voice is trembling when she asks for help getting up.

He lifts her with all the care in the world, and she says sorry, for being clumsy and for scratching up the wood in the fall. He hugs her as tight as he dares and tells her that it's not her fault, and all that matters is that she's okay. That she's fine. The next day, he and Doris draw flowers and stars and spaceships on her new cast.

He wasn't in the old house, and Liz was too big for him to carry now.

Too clever, too strong and smart to stand by, making her way through life like she owned it.

The dust settled, and he knew he wouldn't leave. He couldn't. Not now.

It was easy to follow the voice, dig through the remains and the debris, and reach the place where the kid had been. Where he still was, pinned by a ton of weight, and still miraculously alive. Though with the hits Adrian had seen him take, it was only to be expected.

The kid's eyes widened in fear, but Adrian didn't reassure him. What did he owe the bane of his existence, the very reason he had to resort to targeting this plane as a last resort? He'd tried to explain, lay out his point of view to someone who he thought could understand.

And maybe he did, he thought, lifting the last pieces of concrete away. Maybe the kid just thought that the consequences of his actions were too destructive to be acceptable.

But nothing is too much when it comes to family. When it comes to family, his own family, and everyone else's in his business, it's all acceptable.

He pulled the boy out before he had time to stand or attack, his panic working in Adrian's favour momentarily. The collapse hadn't even knocked him out, so he rectified that with a well-placed hit against the temple.

He pulled the mask off the wet ground and took the kid to the car, putting him in the space under the backseat and locking the doors. The car was a lot more than it appeared, and he was sure that even if he woke up, he wouldn't easily get out.

He took to the skies, finally going through with what he thought he'd never have to do.

If only the kid had just died with the debris falling on him. Then it'd have been clean, over and done with. Now it's a whole lot of trouble.

He'd deal with it later. The threat hadn't worked that night, obviously, but if he made sure to scare him even more, maybe with friends or family, maybe this could still be salvaged. Maybe he'd use the fact that he saved his life; there was no guarantee that anyone would have found him. In any case, his own family would never have to know anything.

It was a good thought, an optimistic thought. With it in mind, he launched himself after the plane.

…

An hour later, he couldn't help but laugh. So much for the boy owing him. He'd returned the favour even as he was the one who had interfered, causing the fire in the first place. But wasn't that what Adrian himself had done, before? Dropped a building on him?

Life has a limitless capacity for irony, he thought. Even half-dead and with dozens of injuries, the- …Peter, had done 'the right thing'. Even if that right thing looked, to him, like saving the enemy who tried to kill him. The enemy who knew his identity, and could reveal it to anyone if he so wished.

What a piece of work.

Then the only thing he could think of was Liz, and Doris, and that he'd failed them. He should have been better, been more. He should have been even more careful.

But that time had passed, and there was nothing he could do about it.

And when someone asked, inevitably, he only thought about it for a split second.

"If I knew who he was, he'd already be dead."


	2. Part Two

He thought he'd die. When everything came down, breaking and shattering and _pain_ , he thought this was it. But he opened his eyes again, and he was still there.

Still there, under a mountain of concrete that pressed down on his back insistently, scraping against his sides and making his bones creak and shudder under its weight.

Because of his enhanced body, or by sheer dumb luck, nothing was broken. Nothing felt broken, anyway, even if there was quite a lot of blood. But he couldn't move; what was left of the building made sure of that.

What if no one found him? What if he bled out right there, with no one knowing? May would shatter at another loss, so close to Ben's. Ned... he'd be left waiting for a best friend that would never come back. All the plans they had made, things to do and see, places to go… gone. Mr Stark would be disappointed, for sure. He'd let him down again. And Toomes would get his hands on dangerous tech that could kill so many people.

The ceiling couldn't possibly crush him more without killing him, but he still felt the small space get even smaller, the debris closing in on him to finish what Toomes couldn't. He panicked, trying to breathe through the fear, but it wasn't working.

He wasn't Spider-Man, right then. He was just Peter Parker, who'd stood by and seen his uncle die, who couldn't do anything right if he tried, whose 'best' was not enough.

He drew as much air as he could into his lungs and screamed for help. Someone had to be out there, right? Someone had to hear him.

And then what, he wondered? Who could lift a whole building off him? He didn't even have Mr Stark's phone number, and would Happy listen to him? Probably not.

Something moved, footsteps, coming closer, and for a second he was struck by the irrational thought that it was Toomes, back to kill him, since the building didn't quite finish the job. But Toomes had left, right?

He had not. The panic rose through his chest to grip him tightly again at the sight of Liz's dad, assisted by his machine, making his way through the rubble.

He tried to say 'stay away', but only the faintest whisper got out, his lungs unable to draw in enough oxygen, struggling to even keep him alive. Toomes didn't say anything, expression unreadable.

The last piece was lifted, and Peter tried to lunge out, but his body betrayed him to panic and injuries.

He was going to die.

Toomes reached out and lifted him, and Peter tried to fight him off, but the man just lifted a hand and everything descended into darkness.

…

He woke up in the dark. It was the car, the same car he'd been in with Liz, in theory no less than an hour ago.

It felt like ten lifetimes.

His phone was not there, but his mask was, and he thought Toomes probably wouldn't want to leave any evidence behind.

He tried the door, that was predictably locked. He tried punching the window, only to be met with much more resistance than glass was supposed to have. Then he tried to mess with its internal electronics to turn on the ignition, only to be electrocuted for his trouble. What the hell was that car made of?

There was no one around, no one to call for help, and he wondered whether he'd just exchanged one death for another. Crushed by a building, or shot somewhere in Toomes's basement?

But the man had actually saved him from the first possibility, so maybe he didn't want him dead. Maybe. Still, he needed to be stopped. For all the people who were in danger because of his weapons.

'Liz is going to be so hurt', a part of his mind whispered.

Damn it, he could not just stay there. Not when he could be the one to stop Toomes. Because he could. Some days, he looked at himself, at the things he could do, and he wondered why he hadn't just gone out there again. Why he hadn't put on the suit, his own suit that had started everything, and snuck out the window.

Because he'd been scared, he realised. Scared of what would happen, scared of not being good enough. He was still scared, deathly afraid of facing the man who almost killed him.

But if there was even one small bit of good he could do, he would do it.

'With great power comes great responsibility'. Ben's voice echoed in his mind every day since That Night. And he had that.

He _has_ power.

He _is_ Spider-Man.

Peter puts on the mask, takes a deep breath, and punches straight through the windshield.

He has no time to lose.

And when the time comes, inevitably, he walks right into the flames to save a life, even if it is Toomes, even though he knows who Peter is, even though he'd tried to kill him. Because he has a responsibility, and there aren't buts and ifs about it.

He spends the next few weeks on edge, waiting for when or if someone will come for him. No one does. Peter's not sure what that means. Does Toomes want to get revenge himself? Does he actually not want Peter dead after all? Is it some kind of ploy?

After a month of no suspicious incidents, he calms down mostly. He doesn't question it anymore. Somehow, he knows no one will come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unless it's Toomes himself.


End file.
